


Circular Thinking

by imadra_blue



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Canon - Video Game, Character Study, Gen, One Shot, POV Female Character, Viera, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadra_blue/pseuds/imadra_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viera think in circles.  It was built not just into their way of thinking, but into their homes, into the very fabric of their beings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Circular Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published at LiveJournal on 12/04/2006.

Viera think in circles. It was built not just into their way of thinking, but into their homes, into the very fabric of their beings.

Fran stood just outside Eruyt Village, thinking of circles as she listened to the soft hooting of the creatures of Golmore Jungle behind her. The curve of the wooden paths of Eruyt was both familiar and strange to her. Had it been that long since she last called this place home? Since she walked in circles, talked in circles, spoke in circles?

It had been a long time, she thought, even for a Viera. Fifty years – practically a Hume lifetime. She couldn't help but make the comparison. She was like the Humes now, trapped in the thinking of their brief lifespans, in their violent struggle to carve out existence at the expense of something else.

Off in the distance, she sensed Myrn, standing near Jote. It was as it should be. Fran wasn't suited for living in circles, but Myrn was. Myrn would feel out of place in the outside world. Fran couldn't even imagine her younger sister in a Hume city, jostled by their comings and goings. Myrn would surely be lost before she could be found. As much as Fran missed her, she would not allow Myrn to follow her.

The wind rustled the leaves of the trees, carrying with it the Green Word. Fran heard it whispering, but no longer did she understand the words. She'd broken the sacred circles, left behind the ornate wood-workings of her home. Instead of walking amongst the trees, she walked between stone buildings. Instead of listening to the wind, she rode atop it in the _Strahl_. Jote would call that unnatural, defying the laws of nature to fly without wings, but Fran loved it. When she'd lived in the circles of Eruyt, she'd felt as if she were trapped in a beautiful wooden cage. But when she flew, she was free – even from nature itself.

Fran took a moment to consider Balthier, the man who'd introduced her to flying. He stood off in the distance, watching as Vaan spoke to Neru in one of the more private areas of Eruyt. He seemed ill at ease; she could see it in the tilt of his hip, in the twitch of his fingers. The behavior of a Hume male never ceased to amaze her. There were so few male Viera, and they were all so retiring. But Balthier was like a Teleport Crystal to her, energizing and transporting. The fascination wasn't sexual, as Balthier often joked; the urge to reproduce was barely existent amongst Viera, despite the Humes' insistence of comparing her race to rabbits. No, what fascinated her about her partner was how _different_ he was from the Viera. He lived life as if he were the hero of a Hume play, seeking his destiny in one adventure after the other. She supposed that was why they were here, on this quest, even on this hunt to help Alja.

Smiling, Fran thought of Alja. She remembered when Alja had been injured while protecting a salve-maker all those years ago. It pleased her to see Alja taking the path of the salve-maker, and Fran had considered it an honor that her arrow had been the one to slay the Vorpal Bunny. Though she would not be recognized, she had at least done her part to help Alja finish her apprenticeship. Fran had left her home behind for the world of men, but she would always care about her people.

Patches of sunlight scattered across her field of vision, and she turned to see the Moogle merchants fluttering down to the small home they'd made for themselves in the trees nearby. Fran watched them wistfully. They seemed so happy and content, even though they were outsiders here in Eruyt. Such satisfaction always seemed to elude her.

The muted thunder of booted heels on wood drew her attention. Her companions returned, Vaan at the front. He wore a wide smile and scratched at his chest as he approached her. In many ways, he reminded her of a younger, far more careless Balthier.

"We did it," Vaan said proudly. "I think Alja is gonna make her dream powder thinger now."

"'Thinger'?" Balthier asked, moving past Vaan. He stopped by Fran and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew of her disquiet every time they came to Eruyt better than anyone in Ivalice. He smiled at her before turning back to Vaan. "Can you explain the pharmacological value of a 'thinger'?"

Vaan scrunched up his face. "I dunno. Can you explain what 'pharmacological' means?"

Everyone laughed, except for Ashe, who only seemed half there. As always, her attention was split between the present and her dreams of the future. Fran worried for her – those dreams could tear Ivalice apart if left unchecked. Though she wasn't entirely sure why Balthier had agreed to accompany the Princess, Fran knew why she had. She needed to watch over Ashe, for Ashe's decisions would affect them all, Viera and Hume alike. Following Ashe on this quest gave Fran a sense of purpose she'd not possessed in fifty years.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Balthier told Vaan, then patted Fran's shoulder. His gaze was warm. "Let's go."

As they headed into the Golmore Jungle, Fran cast one last glance back at Eruyt Village, to drink in its quiet beauty of wood and leaf. Myrn came into view, lifting her hand in farewell up from the boughs of the Fane of the Path. Fran raised her hand in response. She wondered if she would ever come back here, if she would ever see her sisters again.

In the circles of bridges built around the trees, Fran could see her past in every gentle curve, in every floral carving decorating the edge. She turned away from it after a moment.

The problem with circles was that they never went anywhere.


End file.
